


The Moment I saw you Cry

by Knuckles009 (RedCatEye)



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Atheist!Altaïr, Errors and misspelled words fixed., Hurt/Comfort, I'm just gonna tag, M/M, OOC!Altaïr to be safe, Set after the incident in Solomon's Temple, Thoughts of Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-07 15:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5462183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedCatEye/pseuds/Knuckles009
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr had always tried to tell himself that he did not care of what others think of him. </p><p>But sometimes, he likes to remind himself that he's human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment I saw you Cry

**Author's Note:**

> "You were all by yourself;  
> Staring up at a dark gray sky;  
> I was changed;  
> .  
> Was there that I realized;  
> That forever was in your eyes;  
> The moment I saw you cry"
> 
> -Mandy Moore "Cry"

It had been raining that night. The air was cold and there was not a star to be seen. Malik had forgotten why he had been roaming the fortress halls that night but he could guess that it must have been something important for him to leave the comfort of his bed so late at night. 

He was thankful that he had remembered to bring a coat because the wind was ruthless enough to blow in the rain through the windows. The one-armed man hurried along the hallway to avoid getting soaked. Once out of the range of the rain, he stopped at the end of the hallway to take a breath when he saw a familiar white robe perched on a wooden plank of one of the huge windows. By the way the figure confidently sat on his heels, Malik could tell who it was.

 

The Dai forced himself to go back to the flooded hallway and stop in front of the window which the hooded figure sat. The wind blew hard once more and Malik wondered how Altaïr could balance himself against such strong winds. But then again, the man had done far more impressive things in the past.

 

“Altaïr,” He called out, noting how the younger assassin tensed upon realizing that he’s been spotted. “What are you doing out here? Come inside quickly, before you hurt yourself.”

The young man remained silent, as if he had not heard what the one-armed man had just said. Malik shielded himself with his coat as another gust of wind came. Once it passed, Altaïr finally spoke.

 

"Does the idea of death interest you, Malik?"

 

The question struck the Dai as odd. Altaïr was never the type of person who'd talk about a topic such as death before. But the younger man kept going.

 

"Your religion tells people that there is a wonderful place for those who have done noble things," Malik must have been imagining it but he could have sworn that he had heard Altaïr sniffle. "I wonder what would become of me once I die. I live a life of kill or be killed. I have done despicable things for me to stay alive. Your God says that he will forgive those who have sinned. I wonder if he can forgive me, if he does exist."

 

A flash of thunder caused the Dai to recoil and Altaïr's hood to slide off his head, revealing short brown hair dripping wet at the tips. What was surprising was that the younger man didn't move to bring his hood back up. It seemed like a long time ago when Altaïr explained why he is never seen without the garment.

 

 _"It feels as if it hides me from others,"_   Was his reason and from then on, Malik never questioned it. Anonymity was an assassin's ally. 

 

"Why do you say these things, Altaïr?" He asked, reaching for the hem of Altaïr's white robe in an attempt to pull him back inside. It was a futile attempt as the wind kept it out of reach. "You are not one to talk of such matter."

 

"Perhaps you do not know me as well as you think you do, Malik."

 

The response took Malik aback. They've been together through the best and the worst, suffered mostly the same battles, trained the same way. So why would Altaïr say such a thing? Altaïr has always considered himself a secretive man, choosing to remain stoic and aloof most of the time and it doesn't really surprise the Dai anymore that Altaïr would keep his feelings hidden.

 

"Come inside," He repeated. "You'll risk getting sickness with what you're doing, novice. This is not a proper hour to perform a Leap of-"

 

"You are correct, Malik. A Leap of Faith is not appropriate at this time."

 

Malik was growing tired of this. It was the middle of the night, he was probably soaked to his bones in the chilling rain and Altaïr had decided to be a philosopher at the most inopportune time. "Stop talking in riddles, novice," He reprimanded. "Now is not the time for philosophical epiphanies."

Altaïr adjusted his position on the plank of wood so he could properly sit, his feet dangling at the edge. "If I jump now, how can I be certain that there will be something below to break my fall?"

"That is why we call it a Leap of Faith. Come now, surely you're not this inexperienced to not know such information. I've certain you were a novice but not to this degree."

 

He saw how the younger man's shoulders tense as Altaïr replied. "I try...Every day, try to prove to everyone and myself that I am worthy of my title, that I deserve to be in the Brotherhood as much as anyone else," He took a throwing knife from the sheathe at his shoulder. He studied the blade for a while, running a finger along the length of it.

"But it seems that my efforts are never enough. Every day, I leave the safety and familiarity of Masyaf, uncertain of whether or not my next mission will be my last. And I'm afraid to think that I will die without proving to anyone that I did not die simply because I was idiotic. I want to die with the knowledge that they will be honoring me at my funeral, saying to themselves 'Altaïr, you are a noble man and assassin. You truly deserve rest.'"

 

Malik watched as Altaïr reached a sleeved arm up to wipe a tear or rain from his eyes. After doing so, the younger man continued.

 

"Everyone views me as a child who had gotten spoiled, that I do not deserve my rank and their respect. What do I need to do? I am no child, not any longer, that should have sufficed. I have proven myself, time and time again, that I wield the skills to deserve to carry a rank of Master Assassin as those before me. I do not understand!"

The knife was flung to the abyss, never to be seen again. Altaïr's cries could be heard clearly now.

 

"I try! I try to be the perfect person everyone expects of me, all of my battle scars prove of my effort, but nothing was enough! I am forced to be cold, merciless and impenetrable, but I am  _human_ , Malik! There is only so much a single man could endure! I want...I want to be just like everybody else. To roam the streets of Masyaf, unaware and ignorant of the Brotherhood's ways, to live the life of a simple man. But...this is the life I am given with and your god tells us to appreciate what we have and what we are given."

 

Altaïr turned around, remained seated as he turned to face Malik. The latter was afraid the Master Assassin would make an error and plummet to his death, but it seemed Altaïr was more careful than he assumed. However, the way Altaïr's back had nothing to recline against was something that bothered the Dai.

With one of his trademark stoic looks, he asked Malik: "Have you counted your victims like I have over the years, Malik? How much skin your blade-" He flicked his left wrist to reveal the hidden blade. "- had pierced, how many lives it had ended. I've kept track of no less than a thousand."

 

"Why do you think of such petty things, Altaïr?" Malik couldn't take the riddles anymore, Altaïr's cryptic speech was confusing him.

 

What he did not expect for the other assassin to do was quickly stand on the rather narrow piece of wood, one foot in front of the other to balance himself. As if to put on a show of theatrics, he held his arms out to either side of him. With a rare smile, although a sarcastic one, he said:

 

"Would you like me to make it simple for you?! Very well, my friend. I, Altaïr Ibn' La-Ahad, am the greatest disappointment ever to enter Masyaf's walls!"

 

A sudden gust of wind made Malik wildly grab at Altaïr's robes to pull him inside. Finally, he caught hold of the soaking fabric and the younger assassin allowed himself to be dragged back inside. With the sound of the wind muffled by the fortress walls, Malik could confirm that Altaïr was indeed crying. The Master Assassin was being uncharacteristically... vulnerable.

"My blade has ended many lives. I wonder why it refuses to end mine." The young man confessed, keeping his gaze lowered. 

 

"That is only because its wielder refuses to do so as well." Malik reassured, pulling Altaïr into a hug, which the latter did not protest to. Altaïr had to be severely depressed to allow such a contact so Malik chose not to address it.

 

"Novice," There was no hatred in the name, just mild amusement. "You'll be the one to explain to the Master if you become sick."

 

Altaïr's lips formed a small smile. "Will you attend to me?"

 

"Of course, I will."

 

They made it back to Altaïr's quarters without anyone noticing they were ever gone or that they were soaking wet. The younger assassin changed into more casual clothing but kept the hood, albeit the actual hood wasn't covering the man's face like usual. He had convinced Malik to stay for a while, so he'd have someone to talk to as he fell asleep. 

They exchanged stories and secrets until Altaïr fell asleep, the blanket covering him so he could sleep in warmth. Malik left as soon as the golden-eyed man closed those eyes to sleep. He opened the door and made to leave but not before stopping for a moment.

 

"Sleep well, Altaïr."

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest, I'm not really sure what to feel about this one. I feel like the ending is a little rushed. (I'm not surprised since I finished this at 5 AM.) 
> 
> Other than the ending, I like how I managed to stay within the idea had from the song. Most of the time, I stray away from my initial inspiration that I end up scrapping the piece. So enjoy!


End file.
